


linger on your pale blue eyes

by mqriartys (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Fluff and Angst, His Last Vow AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23544145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/mqriartys
Summary: ‘This is it, John,’ Sherlock whispered, clearly in excruciating pain. The crimson blood seeped under John’s legs, and he felt his curly-haired friend’s breathing become unusually rapid. ‘I think this my end.’ A small smile flit across his face, but it was an agonised comfort.‘You can’t, Sherlock, don’t leave me!’ John’s voice was an octave higher. Tears were dribbling down his face - like a metronome, they never stopped.(this is an au of 'his last vow', in which *spoilers* sherlock dies by mary's hand.)
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	linger on your pale blue eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ncbletardis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncbletardis/gifts).



> i dedicate this work to catharine !!  
> this is a thank-you gift for being such a great friend and always super supportive of me :^)  
> it's an angsty sherlock fic, i don't know if it's any good, sorry it's so short x  
> lots of love,,,  
> beth !! x
> 
> (the fic title is from the song pale blue eyes - the velvet underground)

The gun. That’s where this all started. And John curses, curses the day in which he married Mary Morstan. He didn’t know. He daren’t fight it. He can’t stop it.

The bullet went in slow motion. John sprinted, and aimed to jump in front of it. Alas, his heroic act was too slow.

The red dot began to form on Sherlock’s shirt, slowly growing in size. The light from Sherlock’s eyes immediately began to fade, the laughter being blotted away, like spilt ink on a page. He fell back, and was caught with strong, rough hands just before his head hit the skirting of the wall.

John quickly pulled off his jumper, small fibres decorating his shirt, and used it to block the profuse bleeding staining the immaculately ironed button-down on Sherlock’s body.

Positioning Sherlock’s head on his thighs, he began muttering under his breath, panicked, begging for him to live, just to hold on for a few more minutes.

John’s eyes were restless and stung with tears, his breaths were long and heavy, and ached his chest with each one.

‘Sherlock…’ He croaked, quietly.

Mary looked on, a smug smile plastered across her face. Magnussen was dead.

-

‘This is it, John,’ Sherlock whispered, clearly in excruciating pain. The crimson blood seeped under John’s legs, and he felt his curly-haired friend’s breathing become unusually rapid. ‘I think this is my end.’ A small smile flitted across his face, but it was an agonised comfort.

‘You can’t, Sherlock, don’t leave me!’ John’s voice was an octave higher. Tears were dribbling down his face - like a metronome, they never stopped.

Sherlock took a shaky hand and stroked the stream from his friend’s cheek. It was deathly cold. John pulled him closer, letting Sherlock’s arms hang around his neck. 

Some guards came to investigate the noise, but were only met with John crying at them to call an ambulance.

‘It’s okay, Sherlock…’ John whispered, ‘help is on the way.’

‘John, don’t worry, I’m still here,’ Sherlock tenderly whispered back, ‘I’ll hold on as best I can.’

‘Don’t,’ John blurted out, conflicted. ‘If you’re in pain then let go, let go if you want to,’ John drew a shaky breath and pushed his forehead against Sherlock’s, on his chest. There was blood all over both their shirts.

The air around them grew silent and stiff, with the cold of their bodies.

‘If it’s my last chance to say it,’ John whispered, going quieter than he thought he could, ‘I…’ He trailed off, unable to say the words. They didn’t fit in his mouth properly. It was impossible.

The pale blue eyes of his friend watched him vacantly and listlessly. The beautiful pools of light that represented hope and life to John began to ebb away. He lingered his gaze over them, and vowed to never take his eyes from Sherlock again.

‘I want you to be the last thing I see, John.’ Sherlock said with a ghost of a smile, and tears began falling from his eyes. This was a knife to the heart. John sobbed harder, his throat and stomach hurting.

‘Don’t say things like that, you’re getting out of this!’

Sherlock shakily kissed John’s cheek. His lips were cold as frost.

‘I’ll be lost without my blogger.’

It became too much.

John pulled Sherlock as close as he could.

‘Squeeze my hand when it hurts.’ He told the curly-haired one firmly, and slipped his clammy hand in his.

He did.

_ Oh my god, it hurt. It hurt so bad. It felt like my fingers all broke. _

Sherlock went limp, and his breathing shallowed.

‘Oh my god, Sherlock!’ John cried, ‘don’t leave! Not now! It’s too early!’

John rocked back and forth, the body in his arms.

He failed.

**Author's Note:**

> john my beloved - sufjan stevens is a good song to be sad to after reading this, and is generally a beautiful song!
> 
> "so can we pretend sweetly  
> before the mystery ends?  
> i am a man with a heart that offends  
> with its lonely and greedy demands  
> there's only a shadow of me  
> in a matter of speaking,  
> i'm dead"


End file.
